Zehar Is Full Of Questions

After completing my classes for the day, I returned to my cell block.

As soon as I entered, a ripple of motion surged through the room. Men seated on the cold, metal jail benches sprang to their feet, while others who had been languidly lounging within their cells emerged into the narrow walkway. A synchronized wave of fifty inmates, each of them bowing deeply.

It was a scene that resonated with the respect I had amassed between the two cell blocks that I had taken under my control. The atmosphere crackled with a subdued energy, an acknowledgment of my newfound position of authority.

Seeing them all bow including Zehar really made me feel like a king. For a few fleeting moments, I stood there, absorbing the gravity of the gesture, before the men gradually resumed their activities, dispersing like leaves in a gentle breeze.